A Curse of Shadows

His eyes look down, then up at me again. “I hope you’ve kept your strength up because I’m going to be counting on you to not let me tumble down three flights of stairs.”

My arm wraps around his waist without a second thought. “You won’t fall on my watch.”

We make it downstairs without issue, the silence stretching between us because asking more questions seems too dangerous after the previous one. The pressure in my chest has now moved to my head and breathing feels like a chore. Still, I put one foot in front of the other, turning when Grayson tells me to and only stopping once we arrive at a dining room.

The area seems much too formal for just two people, especially when two waiters greet us and even pull our chairs out.

I giggle with a layer of nervousness, then whisper to Grayson, “I’ve never eaten anywhere this fancy before.”

My gaze follows his upward, where there are three chandeliers, each dripping with crystals that glimmer between the lights. The ceiling is made from carved woodworkings, creating tiles above us. The table is a sleek, mahogany wood with navy-blue placemats already outfitted with a full set of silverware and glassware.

“At least not that you remember,” Grayson says with a grin as I place the silver cloth napkin over my lap.

I tense up and he quickly apologizes.

“I’m sorry, Isla. I’ll be better at accepting that you need time for…certain things.”

My gaze shifts toward his and I try to smile, but the action turns into a grimace. “I don’t think I’ll be here long enough to be okay with any of this.”

His shaky hand reaches for mine. “Maybe, maybe not. Let’s see where the next four weeks bring us.”

The two waiters fill the glasses before us, one with water and the other with what I assume is some sort of red wine, but I barely pay attention to them as I hesitate to say the words that are dying to come out.

“What is it?” Grayson says once we’re alone again.

I blink, fighting back tears that I don’t understand and letting the words tumble out. “When I go back home, you can come with me if you want.”

Grayson’s eyes mist over, his voice thick with emotion. “I would love nothing more than to be wherever you are, my sweet girl.”

The connection I felt to him earlier might not be smacking me in the face anymore, but the warmth that fills my heart from his words is enough to have me relaxing in my padded linen chair.

Everything is going to be okay. Tomorrow, I’ll find a way to call Elodee and maybe I’ll even tell her the truth. A partial truth, anyway.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ASHER

She denied me. The sting of rejection pierces deeper than I anticipated, leaving me raw and aching. I shouldn’t be surprised, yet the hurt lingers, a stark reminder of my irrationalities. I have no right to feel this way, especially after the spectacle I made earlier. I crossed lines that shouldn’t have even been approached, let alone breached. I forgot who I am and acted like a bloody idiot.

My hands, trembling with a mix of anger and regret, clutch the short strands of my ebony hair, pulling slightly as if the physical pain might distract from the emotional turmoil churning inside me. I pace the length of my room, each step echoing the tumult in my heart.

Gods, I know better. Centuries of restraint, of reining in my emotions in the face of all challenges, and yet mere minutes with Isla unravels me completely. It’s as if her presence resets all I know, all I’ve disciplined myself to be. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, I know one immutable truth: this woman is the most important thing in all the worlds to me.

Acknowledging this only sharpens the guilt. The instant I confirmed it was truly Isobella standing before me, not some imposter seeking to usurp my throne, I should have enveloped her in the reverence she deserves.

Instead, I let my anger cloud my judgment, and I unleashed it upon her—a royal blunder. Isobella, the woman whose soul now resides in Isla, never tolerated my darker moods. Why would Isla accept them now?

A deep, cleansing breath fills my lungs as I force myself to pause, to reflect, to acknowledge my mistakes. The panoramic window in my bedroom offers a view of the sea turning ink-black under the night sky, its depths mirroring the disorder I feel.

“Tomorrow will be different,” I vow to the reflection in the glass. “I will apologize, and whether or not she forgives me, I need to at least try to understand her struggle.”

Hell, she doesn’t even know who she truly is. Her wolf must be miserable, trapped within that human body. Unless Isla knows what she is and just hasn’t revealed her true self to me.

I’m tempted to show her my wolf first, but maybe I should wait until she doesn’t hate me nearly as much as she does now.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, and I brace myself as Malimorte, my trusted advisor, enters. His golden eyes meet mine, carrying a weight of unspoken words. His habitual stroke of his auburn goatee signals unease, a prelude to unwelcome news.

“What is it, Mali?” I ask, shoving my hands into the pockets of my slacks as I face him from across the room.